Voltron: Defender of the Universe
by Beverly T
Summary: UPDATE Chapter 2 - This is a retelling of Voltron from the begining - includes elements from Voltron and GoLion, but very much my own story. Hope you like it. Feedback is appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Every year, I have the great pleasure of watching new, up and coming cadets enter into the Galaxy Garrison Academy with dreams of changing the universe. In their eyes I see the hopefulness of their youth beaming like a beacon in the dark, their futures standing before them as open as space itself. The day of commencement is filled with great expectations of what the next four years has in store. Of meeting new friends, growing up into your own, and one day graduating as officers into the ranks of the Galaxy Garrison.

"Bitter sweetly, those four years pass by all too quickly, as they have for all of you here today. It is with a proud and heavy heart that I stand before you now. I have watched all of you these past years as you've grown, looking over you like a doting mother. And as all mothers must do, it is now time that I watch all of you leave the nest. I am honored to have had the privilege to be in your lives, and it is my great hope that you will take the lessons that your professors and friends have taught you over the course of your time here and apply them to your lives. Not just to your careers as officers of Galaxy Garrison, but apply those lessons to who you are as people.

"The world outside these walls is not a pleasant one. You will find that it is filled with suffering and hardship. You will have to bare witness to a great many things throughout your lives. But I implore you to take one valuable lesson away from the academy, if nothing else: you are not alone. Garrison officers are always there for one another, no matter the circumstances. Sitting amongst you now are not only your fellow graduates, but the alumni that came before you. Listen to their wisdom and follow their guidance. Together we can do more than we ever imagined possible."

"Is it just me, or does the old bat's speech seem longer than normal?" Keith looked over at the man sitting next to him. He was a young guy, about Keith's own age. He wore the uniform of a Garrison officer, but if Keith didn't know better he never would have pegged him for one. His hair was over regulation length, his posture was far too relaxed, and his overall mannerisms suggested that the guy's idea of a long day's work consisted of sipping martinis on a beach.

Normally, this kind of guy would be the last person Keith would ever associate with.

However, he happened to be Keith's best friend.

"You say that every year, Lance."

"Because every year it's true. But more so this year. I mean, how long does it take to tell two hundred plus students that 'hey, congratulations, you've become adults. Welcome to the harsh realities of life?' Too damn long if you ask me." 

"It's your own fault, you know." 

Lance looked over at Keith like he'd just shot him. "How is it _my _fault the old hag takes so damn long to say a few meaningless words? _I _didn't write the damn speech."

"No," said Keith, "you're just the one who doesn't know how to read a calendar. You're only anxious because you made plans with your latest catch and you forgot that we were required to come to the ceremony."

Lance crossed his arms and slouched down in his seat. "You're a real sour puss, you know that, Larson?"

Keith smiled to himself. He and Lance argued a lot, but they both new it was all in fun. When push came to shove, there was no one else Keith would rather have at his back.

"And now," General Armon continued, "it is my great pleasure to award special honors to one outstanding cadet. Over the course of my time as Dean of the Academy I have had the honor of watching some of the greatest minds come through these doors. But, in all my years, I had never imagined I would be able to see such an outstanding young man grace these halls with his achievements. Not only is he the youngest cadet to even enter into the Academy, but he is also the youngest to graduate with the highest achievement that can be earned. Garrison Academy Class of 2497, please help me welcome your Valedictorian, Peter Carson."

Keith watched as a young boy rose from his seat in the fourth row and walked towards the stage where General Armon stood behind a podium. From where he and Lance sat it was hard to see the people on stage, so Keith watched the large monitor located behind it. From what he could tell, Cadet Carson didn't look like much. He was a scrawny boy, probably no more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. His big brown eyes were hidden behind a pair of oversized glasses that just about swallowed his face whole.

Carson walked across the stage to receive his Valedictorian's medal from General Armon. The boy barely came up to her shoulder. If he were standing next to a full grown man, he would barely clear the man's elbow.

"Just how old is Cadet Carson, anyway?"

"Well," said Lance, "according to my sources he's fourteen. Which would have put him at ten-years-old when he entered the Academy. Sounds like cradle robbing if you ask me. I guess the war has really made the Alliance desperate."

Keith couldn't agree more. The war with the Galra Empire had been going on for years and even though, according to the media, the Alliance had the upper hand Galra was still able to hold them at bay. Still, he couldn't understand the need to drag a ten-year-old kid into it. Was Galaxy Garrison in such desperate need for soldiers that they would even take a child?

"Excuse me, sir," a woman appeared next to them and saluted. "A message from General Didding." She held out a small piece of paper in her hand. Keith saluted her back and took the paper from her. She then turned on her heel and walked away.

"Didding, huh," said Lance. "Doesn't he know it's rude to pass notes in class? I wonder what that old man wants with you."

"Us," Keith corrected as he read over the note. "He wants us to report to his office after the ceremony."

"What?! Oh, man. Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse."

"I wonder what he wants."

"Who knows? He's always harping on our asses about something. Maybe he found out I was the one who swapped out his shaving cream for bacon grease." Lance laughed nostalgically. "That was a fun day."

The two of them sat through the rest of the ceremony patiently. But Keith couldn't help but wonder what it was that General Didding wanted with the two of them.

Brigadier General Urhine Didding was in charge of assigning missions to officers and their companies. It was possible that the two of them were finally going to be re-assigned. But, more likely, Didding was just going to chew them out like so many times before. Despite the fact that the general was not their immediate superior officer he had always gone to great lengths to give the both of them a lashing anytime they - mostly Lance - did something stupid.

Keith couldn't think of anything either of them had done in the recent past that would warrant the general's scrutiny, but considering their history, it probably wasn't necessary.

At the very end of the ceremony General Armon came back to the podium to give a final farewell to the cadets.

"And so," she said, "it is my very great honor to welcome you all into the ranks of Galaxy Garrison. May you all: Walk with peace."

"Die with honor." A chorus of voices echoed throughout the auditorium as every officer in the room recited the Galaxy Garrison code. It was short and simple, but hardly sweet.

"Personally," said Lance as they began to make their way out of the auditorium, "I think they should come up with a better catch phrase. I mean, come on, 'Die with honor.' I'd rather not die for these ungrateful assholes if it's all the same to them. In fact it's pretty high on my list of things _not _do in life. At least not until I've found my fortune and made it with the most beautiful woman on every planet in the Alliance. Then we can talk about dying. Maybe."

"Well," Keith said, turning his head back to Lance as they entered the lift to take them to the ground floor of the building, "if that's the case then you'd better find the fountain of youth on our next mission. 'Cause I seriously doubt you could get _any _woman on _any _planet to make it with you if you keep using those stupid one-liners you use."

Lance looked offended. "They're not stupid."

"I've heard them. They're stupid."

"Well, maybe," he said with a good-natured shrug, "but they work. You say anything with enough charisma to a woman who's got enough alcohol in her system to drown a Karthonian mule and even you could get lucky." Keith gave his friend a look that should have told him to keep his mouth shut, but Lance just shrugged. "Miracles happen."

Exiting the lift, the two attempted to make their way through the crowded hallways to the exit. Graduating students and their families gathered around windows and doors trying to take pictures. Keith was sure he'd accidently been snapped in a couple photos. Turning back to talk to Lance, he found him with his arms around a beautiful young girl, her mother, and younger sister as another woman snapped their picture.

"LANCE!" His buddy donned a pseudo-surprised look.

"Oh, sorry." Bidding farewell to the ladies, Lance made his way through the crowd back to Keith.

"I swear," Keith said, half to himself, "it's like I have to _babysit _you every minute of every day. Otherwise you'd probably end up blowing up the whole fleet."

"Not every day. Just the days that end in 'Y'."

"Not funny."

Lance sighed. "Yeah, I know. That joke's like, what, four hundred years old? I definitely should retire it, but it fit so well, don't you think?"

It was Keith's turn to sigh.

"Unbelievable."

"Oh, buck up, Larson. You know you love me."

"Yeah, like a massage from a lypher."

"Don't diss those. A buddy of mine had one once. Said it was wonderful until the talons started to rip his flesh off." Exiting the arena where the graduation had been held, they started off across the campus to where the High Command of Galaxy Garrison was located.

Consisting of one large skyscraper, the tallest building on Earth, surrounded by five smaller, interconnecting buildings, the High Command was where every officer in Garrison hoped to hold an office in one day. It was the central point of the entire fleet. It glistened like a beacon against the bright rays of the sun, its glass windows and lining reflecting the light, making it stand out for miles around.

The Garrisons, the five highest ranked officers of the armada, held their offices on the top floors of the central building. To be a Garrison was said to be equivalent to being a king. It was Keith's life long goal.

"Hey! You're having that wet dream again, aren't you," Lance asked as they walked up the stairs to the High Command. "You know the one where you become a Garrison. Not to be confused with the one where you dance naked in the galley, drunk off your ass on Falusion Fire, completely embarrassing yourself in front of our entire graduating class and Lieutenant General Armon two days before your promotion to captain." Keith stopped dead in his tracks, wishing he could kill his best friend. "Oh, yeah, that's right. I wasn't supposed to tell you that happened. My bad."

"Your bad was saying my bad."

"Again, you love me."

Yeah, but there were days when he seriously wondered why.

It took several minutes for the two of them to reach their destination. Didding's office was on the far, far, far corner of the farthest building in the Command. It was common knowledge that the Brigadier General had an aversion to, well, everyone. It must have really cooked his goose since his job forced him to interact with, well, everyone.

The two of them stood outside the general's door for several minutes, just staring at the gold lettering on the glass.

"Do we have to go in?"

Keith wasn't thrilled about seeing General Didding anymore than Lance was but, if they were ever going to get off the planet they needed the general's permission to do it. After being on the probationary list for the past two years, they both _might _have finally earned the right to go off-world.

Unfortunately, this was just a necessary step in that direction.

"Man up, Hammell. You're the reason we're in this mess to begin with."

"I know," Lance said, gingerly, "I know. But seriously, the man's probably going to croak in another year or so. He's too fat to live much longer. I say we just wait it out, and then come back when they replace him. The next guy can't be nearly as bad, right."

"I may be fat, Lieutenant Hammell, but I'm not dead yet."

They both cringed inwardly. Keith wanted to shoot Lance as they heard General Didding address them from behind. Turning an abrupt about-face, it was obvious the general wasn't pleased. A few inches shorter than both of them, General Didding was still a power-house commander, even in his old age. Though his round face, oval-shaped dark brown eyes, and short gray hair almost gave him the appearance of the kind uncle who brought presents home for everyone when he came to visit on holidays, the continuous scowl he donned as a part of his uniform instantly made him seem more like Mr. Scrooge, rather than merry Saint Nick.

The general seemed calm on the outside, but the vein that throbbed in his temple was a dead giveaway for how dead they both were going to be very soon.

"In fact," said Didding, "I even managed to make it back to my office without breaking a sweat. Not bad for - what was the phrase you used - 'a portly, overbearing imbecile who wouldn't know the inside of a space fighter unless it was covered in animal lard, deep-fried, and smothered in gravy?'"

Lance hissed as if he'd been burned. Keith closed his eyes, dumbfounded by his friend's ignorance. _So much for going off world._ The two of them were probably going to be scrubbing toilets on Pluto for the rest of their lives. Lance's inability to keep his mouth shut was going to get them both killed one day. Keith was certain of it.

"You heard that, huh?"

"Yes, Hammell, I did. My suggestion to you both is to lay off the Fire. Neither of you can handle it properly."

The general moved past them into his office. His secretary, a cute female cadet with brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, stood at attention when he entered the room, as well as a man and boy who were sitting in a set of chairs off to the side.

"Sir," she said, "Lieutenants McKleven and Carson are here to see you."

Keith was surprised to see - the now- Second Lieutenant Carson sitting in the General's waiting room. The kid really was as small and spritely as Keith had figured. The top of the boy's head barely came up to his own chest. And standing next to the mammoth of a man that was Lieutenant McKleven made the boy seem almost like a toddler.

Didding nodded to the girl and motioned for the four of them - McKleven, Carson, Lance, and Keith - to follow him into his office. He shut the door behind them.

"At ease, gentlemen."

The four of them relaxed as Didding sat behind the large desk in the middle of the room.

"As you are all aware, the Alliance maintains a strict code where by any of it's allied planets may acquire the assistance of Galaxy Garrison, its troops, fleets, or weapons in the event they are unable to protect themselves from any and all forces that threaten them." The general recited the words with a dull, dead tone that said he had had to say it one too many times over the years.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squint his eyes shut as if the words gave him a headache.

"Have any of you heard of Planet Altea?"

"Sir," Carson took a step forward. "Planet Altea, located in Outer Quadrant Delta-five. Governed by the monarchy established in Earth-Year 2015 by King Quilcus I. Joined the Alliance in Earth-Year 2356."

Didding kept his eyes closed, as if bored by the boy's obviously vast knowledge of the planet.

"As always, Lieutenant Carson, your plethora of mind-numbing facts has succeeded in putting me to sleep, so before I fall victim to any more of your infinite wisdom let me get to the point."

Didding clicked a panel on his desk. The wall behind him turned into a huge vid-screen, displaying a large multi-colored mecha.

"This, gentlemen" he said, pointing to the mecha, "is Voltron. It is Planet Altea's one and only line of defense against Emperor Zarkon and his Galra army who are currently focusing most of their forces there. For the last six years Galaxy Garrison has had its finest pilots deployed on Altea to operate Voltron. However, during their last battle with Zarkon four of its pilots were killed.

"The four of you will be traveling to Altea tonight to replace them." Keith was stunned to hear this news. Usually, Galaxy Garrison gave their pilots more than a few hours notice before shipping them off-world.

He had been hopeful that he and Lance would be getting off-world orders, but to be told that they were to travel to the other side of the galaxy _tonight_ was more than he had anticipated.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one.

"Sir," said the other lieutenant who had come in with Carson. He was a giant of a man, standing a good foot taller than Keith, his clean-shaven head glistening against the harsh light of Didding's office.

"Save it, McKleven. This isn't an offer, it's an order. And it's out of my hands. I've made your arguments to the Garrisons, but they _insisted_," the general spat the word as if it left a bitter taste on his tongue,_ "_that you be on board that ship. Tonight." McKleven straitened his back in obvious distaste.

Didding suddenly looked ten years older. He slumped into his chair, glaring off into the distance at some unknown object that he obviously despised. When he addressed them next, Keith could tell it was as a man, not a general.

"I understand what a shock this must be for you all, and if it were up to me I'd send someone else, but it's not. The Garrisons want the best, and, as much as I hate to admit it" - he narrowed his eyes at Lance - "that would be the four of you.

"I've sent all of you the need-to-know details pertaining to your mission. You'll rendezvous at hanger 23-701 at 2200 hours. Don't be late. I suggest you all take the rest of the day to get your affairs in order. Dismissed."

There was a strange catch in the general's voice that made it sound like getting their "affairs in order" included writing out their wills. It gave Keith a very uneasy feeling.

As the four of them began to exit the office, Didding called them back.

Keith could see the years catch up to Didding in that moment and it made him curious. What did the general know that he wasn't telling them?

"Walk with peace."

"Die with honor." Keith, Carson, and McKleven all answered automatically.

"Forget dying," Lance said. "I've said it before; I have no intention of dying for these people."

For the first time in, probably the man's whole life, Didding actually smiled. Only a half-smile, granted, but Keith was sure that it had been a long time since even that much had crossed the man's face. It actually made him seem slightly human.

"Then may God be in the wind, boys. Where you're going, you're going to need Him."

...

"Did anyone else pick up on the creepy vibe the general was giving off just now," Lance asked as the four of them left General Didding's office. The corridor outside was mostly empty, a few assistants running back and forth, doing errands for various high-ranking officers. It normally was busier during this time of day, but everyone had most likely taken off for the graduation. "What was he talking about, anyway?"

Keith wasn't sure what the general had meant to imply by his bleak tone, but it was obvious that Didding definitely knew something about their mission that he wasn't telling them. A sick feeling settled into the pit of Keith's stomach. He didn't like the idea of heading into anything, much less a mission, without knowing the full details of the situation. He hoped that he was just being paranoid.

"Obviously, it's a highly dangerous mission," said Lt. Carson with a bit more enthusiasm than Keith would have liked. "Gaa, this is so awesome. I can't believe I'm going off-world right after graduation. Wait till I tell my folks. My sister's going to be so jealous."

"How old are you anyway, kid," Lance asked teasingly, "like, twelve or something?"

"I'll be fifteen in three months, for you information," Carson said, walking a little taller as he did so.

"So, you really are just a snot-nosed brat, aren't you?" Lance paused for a second. "You're like a super-genius or something, right?"

"Yup," said Carson, proudly. "Name's Pete Carson, but you guys can call me Pidge. It's the name my sister gave me."

"Short for 'Pigeon'?"

"Yeah, it's her inside joke. She's two years younger than me, but she thinks she's older because girls mature faster than boys. I can't wait to see the smile drain from her face when I tell her I just got my first mission order. That'll teach her to respect her elders."

Keith and Lance both exchanged a knowing look with one another. Neither one seemed to be comfortable with the idea of bringing a little kid along on a mission like this.

"I'm so excited!" Pidge jumped up and down as he walked. "Do you think we're going to be in a battle? That would be so cool. I can't wait to put my skills to the test. I aced all my flight-sim exams with the best marks in years, but to be able to use them in a real fight would be great. You know, those flight-sims are so realistic, but I've heard they don't compare to the real thing. Any of you guys been in combat before?"

Lance and Keith looked at each other.

"Did you beat any of the high scores on your exams, kid?" Lance asked, changing the subject.

"Nah," he said. "I tried, but my instructor said not to beat myself up over it. She said that the cadet who set them was the best she had seen in all her years at Galaxy Garrison, and that even if I didn't beat the high scores I could still give the guy a run for his money."

Lance smiled with a shit-eating grin. "Well, you know our dear ol' Keith here was the cadet who set those scores, don't ya?"

Evidently, he hadn't.

"No. Way. You're Keith Larson? I can't believe it. It's such an honor to meet you. I can't believe that I'm going on a mission with the guy who set the Alliance record for 'Most Sim Kills'. You're amazing."

The stars in Pidge's eyes made Keith want to make Lance see stars for driving such unwanted attention to his doorstep. The rank bastard really knew how to irritate him.

"That's only because this guy next to me was too drunk to shoot straight." He pointed his thumb at Lance. "If he'd been sober _he _would have had the high score."

"It was my birthday. What fool, besides you, stays sober on their birthday? It's not my fault they scheduled an exam that day. Idiots should have known I'd be flogged."

"Wow. Well, if it's all the same to you guys, I'm going to run on ahead. I can't wait to see the look on my sister's face when I tell her the good news. She's going to freak when she hears all this." Pidge waved them goodbye as he ran down the hall, narrowly missing a group of assistants as they crossed the corridor. As Keith watched the young boy skip about, a severe feeling of dread washed over him.

"Kinda makes you sick to your stomach, doesn't it?" The deep baritone of Lt. McKleven's voice struck Keith in an odd way. Something about it reminded him of the catch that Didding had; like they both knew what was coming and it wasn't good.

"You know something about this mission, don't you?"

McKleven sighed heavily, his massive shoulders bowing ever so slightly.

"Guess there's really no point in hiding." He spoke so quietly at first Keith wasn't sure he had heard him correctly. "We've been given an Omega mission."

Both Lance and Keith stopped dead in their tracks. Mission classes were broken up into five different groups. Omega missions were the ones where it was anticipated - no, expected - that whoever took the mission would _not _come back alive. And that was under the best circumstances.

Usually, such missions were given on a "volunteer" basis. Meaning, the ones who took the mission were given an option. Either take the mission or enroll in an early retirement. Didding hadn't offered them the choice.

"Oh, hell," Lance exclaimed. "Doesn't that beat all? I make it my mission in life to _not _die for these bastards, then they go and sign me up to do just that. Talk about irony."

Keith didn't see any humor in the situation.

Neither did McKleven.

"They have a sick way of doing that," he said. "I suggest you do as the general said and take the rest of the day to get your affairs in order." The three of them exited the building. As McKleven began to walk off, Keith called out to him.

"We never properly introduced ourselves. I'm -"

"I know who you are, Captain Larson. Lieutenant Hammell." He bowed his head respectfully to each of them. "Your reputations precede you."

"The good ones or the bad, 'cause I distinctly remember Larson, here, having more badges on his formal than I do."

"Both," he said, curtly. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have to make a phone call."

As McKleven left, leaving them standing on the steps of the High Command building, Lance let out a low whistle.

"Is it just me, or does the man have issues?"

"It's you."

"Oh, well, that's a relief. For a second there I was afraid I'd become normal and it was the world that was fucked up."

"How about we compromise. You're far from normal and the world really is fucked up."

"I can agree to that. I mean, if the world wasn't seriously screwy than you and I wouldn't be going on this mission with a kid who still wets his bed and a man headed for the chopping block."

Keith turned to Lance on his heel. _The chopping block _was a sick joke Lance used to describe anyone who had a kid. How the hell had Lance known that?

He held his hands up in surrender.

"Jayce told me. The gossipy bitch keeps her ear to the grindstone and in a moment of weakness I was actually listening to her. Still don't know what came over me." Jayce was a "friend" of theirs from school who, as Lance had so eloquently put it, was a gossipy bitch who lived for a good rumor. But to her credit, the information she spread around was usually true.

If McKleven really was going to be a father than it certainly explained his dire mood towards the mission. In fact, Keith was surprised the man hadn't put up more of a fight in Didding's office. If he had been in the guy's shoes, he would have pitched a hell-fit to keep from going. Having known what it was like to live without either of his parents, Keith would never want to put a child through that. Especially not his own.

"What the hell are the Garrisons thinking?"

"Beats me," Lance said, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'd put my money on one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"That whatever is happening on Altea is a lot bigger than you or I can imagine."

...

_Please Review! Thank you! ^^_


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Keith had no doubt his friend was right. Whatever was going on with Altea was major. And they were most likely going to be dropped right in the middle of it.

The two of them continued talking as they walked towards their quarters located south of the Academy. When they reached their apartment building Lance decided to head out to his favorite dive.

"If I'm going to die," he said, "then I'm going to be as hammered as possible while I do it."

Opening the door to his apartment, Keith was greeted by empty silence. There were defiantly times when living alone was a god-send.

This just wasn't one of them.

Knowing that in less than eight hours he was going to have to leave everything behind and head light-years across the galaxy on a suicide mission was only slightly disturbing. What bothered him most was that, unlike McKleven and Carson, he didn't have anyone to call. There was no one in the Universe, besides Lance, who would even care that he was gone. Even his best friend, though he'd deny it, had someone who would miss him if he didn't return.

Keith, however, had lost both his parents when he was a baby. His godfather had raised him, but Daniel had died years ago while Keith had been at the Academy. Daniel hadn't married, and Keith had no knowledge of any other living relative. He was completely alone.

Not wanting to dwell on the past, Keith went to his vid-screen and pulled up the information on the upcoming mission.

Usually these sorts of things were long and drawn out. But all Keith saw were the brief histories of Planet Altea, the Kingdom of Altair which ruled the planet, and the Galra Empire. But it was all information that Keith could have found on his own if he had wanted. There were also basic backgrounds on Lance, Carson, and McKleven included in the file.

_That's strange._ Normally there would be details on what they were supposed to accomplish on their mission and a time frame to do it in. But if McKleven was right then there would be no need for details that no one expected them to pull off, anyway.

He decided to take a look at the personnel files. The first one he pulled up was McKleven's.

_Name: MCKLEVEN, HENRY_

_Rank: FIRST LUTIENENT  
>D.O.B: 2469.14.11<em>

_Graduated with honors. Ranked second in his class. Specializes in Mechanical Engineering, Arial Aviation, and Hand to Hand Combat, as well as Historical and Modern Weaponry._

_Deployed with the Tenth Garrison Division after graduation under the command of Col. Marrow. Was promoted to First Lieutenant and given the Garrison Medal of Honor for Bravery in the Line of Duty in 2493 after being one of six survivors during the Battle of Titan. Requested transfer to Academy Base Maintenance Department in 2494. Granted in 2495._

Just as General Didding had said, all the information was need to know only. There was no personal information on McKleven, only a very brief summary on his military accomplishments.

Keith did find it interesting, however, that a Medal of Honor recipient would request a transfer to the maintenance department of the Academy after having served in battle. But, then again, with what little knowledge Keith had of the battle that killed Colonel Marrow, he guessed it made since. The Tenth Division had been lead into a trap then slaughtered by rebel forces on Jupiter's moon, Titan, while they had been trying to bring supplies to a colony that, they thought, had been attacked.

He had personally been devastated to hear the news of their loss. The fact that McKleven had survived the attack was astounding. It showed a great deal of resilience to be able to come out of such a bloody battle in one piece. Keith could easily understand how, after surviving such a grisly ordeal, McKleven would want to leave the battle field behind him.

Now, though, he was being forced back into it against his will, with a baby on the way, no less. Keith felt heavily for the man.

Moving to the next file, he scanned it carefully. Like McKleven's it was short and sweet, but for an entirely different reason.

_Name: CARSON, PETER  
>Rank: SECOND LIEUTENANT<br>D.O.B: 2483.23.1_

_Graduated with honors. Ranked first in his class. To date, is the youngest being to ever enter into and/or graduate from Garrison Academy. Specializes in Software Programming, Hardware Programming, Data Retrieval and Encryption, Navigation, Communications Engineering, Weapons Single Fire, Weapons Double Fire, Tactical Evasion on Land and Air, Mixed Martial Arts, and Useless Random Facts About Everything In The Known Universe._

_I also enjoy Comic Books, Sim-Vid Games, Picking on My Little Sister, and Hacking Into My Personnel File. It's kind of boring right now, but once I come back from my first mission I'll have all sorts of cool stuff to put on here. That is, of course, if I don't get in trouble for hacking it in the first place._

_Oops, my Mom's calling. Catch you later! ^-^_

Keith laughed to himself as he stared at the screen in front of him. Pidge was defiantly going to make this an interesting trip, to say the least. He and Lance would get along perfectly. They both seemed to have a knack for getting themselves into trouble.

And, most likely, getting on Keith's last nerve.

He still couldn't believe that Pidge was coming along on this mission. Even if he did graduate at the top of his class, and with all the specialties he possessed, he was too young for battle. Keith had no idea what the situation was like on Altea, but if the Garrisons considered this an Omega mission, then, as far as he was concerned, it was too dangerous for someone of Pidge's age.

The boy could probably fight his way out of a cardboard box well enough, but the Sim-Vids at the Academy didn't compare to the high-adrenaline action of real combat. It was one thing to score high when you're in a safe and controlled environment, quite another when you're being shot at and your life is on the line.

Continuing on, he really didn't need to read the next file since he knew it almost as well as he knew his own.

_Name: HAMMELL, LANCELOT  
>Rank: FIRST LIEUTENANT<br>D.O.B: 2473.3.7_

_Graduated from the Academy 2495. Ranked two-hundred forty-ninth out of one-thousand five-hundred students. Hammell shows a lack of respect for authority as well as a clear defiance of rules and edict. Reprimanded for Outlandish Behavior, Public Drunkenness, Public Nudity, Public Brawling, Insulting a Commanding Officer, Assaulting a Commanding Officer, Refusing a Direct Order, Resisting Public Arrest, Resisting Military Arrest, Possession of Illegal Alcohol, Possession of Illegal Firearms, Possession of Stolen Property, and Theft of Public Property._

_Deployed into the Sixth Garrison Battalion after graduation. Fought in the Battle of Qui-amm. Was co-awarded the Medal of Valor and promoted to First Lieutenant for his assistance in neutralizing the Valcar Army and negotiating the cease-fire between the Valcar and Juitsu-kai Empires that eventually led to the Treaty of Ka-tai._

_Recommendation: Lt. Hammell has shown on a number of occasions his skills as a pilot are unmatched. He preforms better in a combat environment than a class room. His loyalties, once earned, are unwavering. It is in my opinion that the benefits of having Lt. Hammell as part of a team far outweigh the headache he appears to enjoy giving his superior officers. To dismiss him purely on the basis of his reprimands would be foolish. I consider him one of the few men I would trust at my back in battle. _

_Brig. Gen. Urhine Didding_

Whoa.

Keith wondered if Lance knew General Didding had left such a strong recommendation on his file. Probably not. If he had, he doubted Lance would have called Didding an overbearing imbecile. The man had, most likely, single-handedly kept Lance's military carrier alive with a recommendation like that.

Unfortunately, most people were ready to dismiss Lance as a fool at first glance. If not for the unique way that they had met, Keith would probably have been one of them. But Lance had a very particular way of looking at the world that Keith, personally, enjoyed thoroughly.

He'd been there when Lance had received most of those reprimands, even helped him get some of them. But no matter how much trouble he had been in Lance always took it good-naturedly. Even when he'd slugged Captain D'Akai for insulting Keith's dead parents and they had both been sitting in jail after the M.P.s had chased them clear across campus and back, Lance had sat up against the cell wall, his face bruised, laughing at how D'Akai had looked after he realized Lance had actually decked him.

The man certainly had a sick sense of humor. But there was no one else Keith would trust at his back in a pinch.

Which made this upcoming mission that much worse. As captain, Keith was the highest ranked officer among them. Their survival was completely in his hands.

_How am I going to do this?_

That was the million creditquestion.

And he had less than eight hours to figure it out or else they were all going to meet an early death.

...

At 2200 hours Keith was waiting for the others to arrive at the hanger where their craft was being fueled and prepped for space travel. It wasn't long before Pidge, McKleven and Lance showed up. Keith had to take a long, measured breath to control his temper as he saw his best friend staggering towards him. The man was completely flogged.

_This is going to be a long trip._

As Lance started to sway a little too far to the right McKleven caught him by the collar of his jacket and righted him. Most people would have looked at Lance with disgust, but McKleven barely acknowledged him. Thank God for small miracles.

If McKleven could take Lance's antics in stride then there might be hope yet.

One of Keith's biggest fears over this trip, as far as his crew was concerned - because, let's face it . . . there was a lot to be fearful over - was that their dynamic would be off. Keith knew he could handle Lance, but he was one of the few. Lance was a sour pill that was best taken with a tall, cool glass of patience. Something not everyone possessed. But it seemed, at least right now, that McKleven did.

When the three of them reached him, Keith noticed the change in their demeanors. Lance was obviously too drunk to tell which was up, but McKleven and Pidge, especially, seemed to be more depressed than when they had first met. McKleven he could understand. Most likely the phone call he had had to make had been to the woman who would birth his child. No doubt it had been a painful conversation for them both. But Pidge had seemed so egger for this mission.

"What's the matter, Pidge?"

Keeping his eyes to the floor Pidge didn't answer at first. Gripping the strap of his backpack tight with both hands he looked at Keith with torment so profound it reminded Keith of his own troubled childhood.

"I called my mom and sister when I got back to my room to tell them about the mission, but they, um, they weren't happy about it. I tried to tell them that I'd be alright, but I don't think they heard me. My mom kept crying, saying she was going to have to bury her baby and my sister . . ." His voice cracked as he spoke. It was obvious Pidge and his sister were close. "She wouldn't even speak to me. Not even to yell at me and tell me how stupid I was."

A tear slid down Pidge's cheek just before he brushed it away with his hand. Keith was almost afraid to ask his next question.

"What about your dad?"

Pidge was silent again before he spoke in a whisper that Keith barely heard. "He wasn't home."

Keith felt for the kid. He'd been put in a very tough position, but, as much as it sickened him to know this, there was nothing to be done. They had their mission and as much as he hated to bring a kid into combat, to leave him behind against orders would be a fate worse than death. Galaxy Garrison did not take kindly to any of its soldiers, officers or enlisted, abandoning their duties. If Pidge were to leave, they would hunt him down with little to no mercy.

And if they couldn't find him they wouldn't hesitate to take his punishment out on his family.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Wanting to cheer him up, Keith knelt down on one knee to look Pidge in the eye. He put one hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be alright, kid. You'll see your family again. I promise."

Giving him a small smile Pidge nodded his head.

"Captain Larson, the ship's ready." Keith turned toward the flight coordinator who had addressed him, nodding. "Alright, gang," he said to his newest crew, "let's get going."

"Don' you worry, kid," Lance said to Pidge, drunkenly, as he put his whole body weight on the youth. Keith was surprised the kid didn't cave under it. "You're flyin' with the bes' pilots in the galaxy. Ain' nothin' ganna stop us. Especially not no ruddy, cruddy King Zarkon who probably sleeps in pink flower jammies an' cuddles up to a big, stuffed bunny to keep the bogie man away." Pidge pulled one of Lance's arms over his shoulder as he led him to the ship. "Nope, nothin' ganna stop us."

For some reason he couldn't fathom, Keith smiled as they walked off.

"You shouldn't give the kid false hope." He turned to McKleven who looked down at him as a parent would a child. "And you definitely shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

Little did he know that Keith had every intention of keeping his promise to Pidge. And that that promise extended to every one of them.

He was not going to let them die on this mission.

The details on how he was going to pull that off were still "to be determined," but if Keith knew anything it was that he worked best under pressure. And, with any luck, so would his crew.

Following after McKleven, he went to board their ship and get ready for take off.

Urhine Didding watched from his vid-screen as Captain Larson and Lieutenants Hammell, Carson, and McKleven boarded their ship, the _Soteria_, named for the ancient Greek goddess of safety. Didding hoped that the ship would live up to her name. And that her pilots didn't fuck things up.

The door to his office opened behind him.

At this time of night there were few who would risk their necks to interrupt him, and only one who would do so unannounced.

"What do you want, Amos?" Didding tried to sound coarse at the woman who he had known for decades, but it was difficult. Even after all these years he still had a weak spot where she was concerned. Dammit all.

To hell if he ever let her know that, though.

"So," she said, her soft voice brushing against the stillness of his office like a feather's caress, "you agreed to send them after all."

"Wasn't really my decision to make, now was it?" It was a rhetorical question. They both knew he had no more power over who was sent on a mission than she had over who was selected to enter into the Academy. They were both just pieces on a chess board, moved around against their will.

"I suppose not." He heard her move towards his desk. She stopped just shy of it. "So, what will you do now, Urhine?"

Didding laughed. That was the question on everyone's mind, wasn't it?

"Wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes." He turned his chair around to face her. The glow of the vid-screen cast a soft blue-gray light over her sharp features. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled away from her face, small tendrils falling into her eyes; eyes that questioned his sanity. He laughed to himself. He couldn't really blame her for her skepticism. If he wasn't completely sure that his plan would work, then he'd think himself mad, as well. "We wait."

"Urhine, those boys have no idea what they're getting into. None. As good as they are they're still no match for what's to come. They will be massacred." The worry in her voice surprised him, but Amia had always had a soft spot for her cadets, past and present. It is what had made her so right for her job.

But she had always underestimated him.

"Don't fret, Amos. The Garrisons think they have tied my hands, but what they don't realize is that in doing so they have set up the means for their downfall."

"I don't understand."

"Those boys will be the ones to right all the wrongs of the past that you and I were unable to prevent."

"What makes you so sure?"

He laughed. "The same thing that possessed me to manipulate the Generals into signing those boys up for this mission in the first place." Amos gasped. The accusation in her blue eyes burned into him, but he was use to it. She never did understand his mind.

But these were desperate times. And they called for desperate measures.

He had sat idly by for years, biding his time. Like a lion, he waited for the perfect time to strike. Now, the opportunity had presented itself.

Those poor bastards wouldn't even know what hit them until it was too late.

"Goddammit, Lance, if you don't shut up, I swear to every deity in the known Universe I'm going to shoot you myself!"

Keith very rarely lost his temper, but Lance had been moaning ever since they had left orbit. He'd discarded the ruminants of his binge drinking all over himself during lift-off. Pidge had helped clean him up, but after that he had felt the persistent compulsion to moan . . . constantly. It was driving Keith nuts!

"I can't help it," Lance said in the same dull tone he had been moaning in. "I feel like shit."

"It's your own fault," Keith said. "You know better than to get drunk right before you go up into space. The G-Force alone is enough to make you toss your breakfast."

"It's never stopped me before."

"But last time you were passed out and but for the grace of God I was saved from having to clean up your puke. Pidge, you're a saint, by the way."

The boy gave a soft laugh. "It's no big deal. I'm use to it."

The three grown men in the room paused as they realized those four little words told them more about the boy than anything else had. Keith and McKleven both glared at Lance from the pilot and co-pilot chairs. Their message was clear: sober the hell up and _never _get drunk around the kid again.

Lance sunk into his chair, pursing his bottom lip out like a small child who'd been told he couldn't play with his favorite toy anymore. It was kind of adorable in an infuriating sort of way.

Keith and McKleven turned back around and continued to monitor their course for Altea.

"Um, Captain . . . Larson?" Keith smiled despite himself at Pidge's uncertainty at addressing him properly. He didn't know why, but it was rather charming.

"Its okay, Pidge, you can call me Keith."

"Speaking of which," Lance said, rising from his slumped position to sit up straight, "what's your first name, McKleven?"

"Didn't you read your personnel reports?" Keith asked.

"Did you miss the part where I said I was busy getting drunk off my arse?"

Keith shook his head and sighed. McKleven was quiet for so long, he didn't think he was ever going to answer.

"Hank."

"'Hank', huh?" Lance looked as if he was trying the word out on his tongue. "It's not a bad name, but I'm thinking you look more like a 'Hunk' to me."

Keith tried hard to stifle his laugh, but it sputtered out before he could stop himself.

"What the hell's your problem?"

"You're not really my type, Hammell," McKleven said. "I prefer my dates with certain pieces of anatomy that you lack."

Unable to stop himself, Keith busted out laughing. He had to give full control of the ship over to McKleven while he tried to contain himself. Lance looked like he was going to murder him.

"I don't get it." Pidge looked so confused by their little jibes, but took it all in stride as he shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the weapons systems panel. "I kinda like 'Hunk' as a nickname, though. It sounds like something my sister would come up with. For some reason, she loves giving everyone weird nicknames that, to everyone else, don't make sense."

"So why does she call you Pidge?"

"She says I'm as fearless and inquisitive as a pigeon. We live on Balto and you'd be surprised but we see them . . . everywhere. She thinks it's cool how the pigeons are so use to humans that instead of flying away from them like they should, they walk around like they're human, too. And that they are constantly investigating new things. She says they're just like me." He smiled sadly. "She says that since I'm so smart, I've had to walk around with adults like I am one. But I think she's way smarter than I am."

The love and admiration Pidge had for his little sister made Keith feel slightly jealous. He'd never had siblings growing up. Lance was the closest thing to a brother he had and, though he would do anything for the man, Keith had a feeling it wasn't the same. They hadn't grown up together.

They weren't part of a family. Not really.

The next few hours passed by in relative silence, which was occasionally broken by Lance snoring. It astounded Keith how Lance could sleep almost anywhere. He, himself, had never been able to get completely comfortable enough in a space ship to actually fall asleep, but Lance seemed to draw comfort from it.

Or maybe he was just that drunk.

Lance let out a particularly loud snore that seemed to shake the whole ship.

"He's even a power house when he's asleep, isn't he?"

Hunk's words startled Keith even more than Lance's snore. The older man had been so quiet through out the whole trip so far that if it hadn't for his sheer size Keith would have totally forgotten about him.

He looked back at Lance, who had his head hanging off the side of his chair at a weird angle that Keith was sure wasn't going to help his hangover when he woke up.

"He can be, yeah." Keith looked to the other side of the ship to see Pidge asleep, his body hanging off his chair at odd angles as well. "The kid's about the same, too." He glanced over at Hunk. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

The man gave him a half smile that didn't reach his eyes as he continued to stare out in front of him, never meeting Keith's gaze.

"You want to know how I knew this was an Omega mission." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. It was something that had been bothering Keith for a while.

"Yeah."

"I didn't."

Well, that was generally surprising. "What do you mean?"

"It was just a gut feeling I had from the beginning. I wasn't sure until Didding refused to hear out my complaint even though he already knew of my situation."

"'Situation?'"

Hunk didn't answer at first. Keith was beginning to notice the man's tendency to do that. "My wife and I are having a baby. She's due in about eight weeks."

"That was the phone call you made." Keith didn't have to ask. He knew. He also knew the answer to the next thing on his mind, but for some reason he still needed to say it out loud. Just to have it said. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that she took the news about as well as one would expect."

"You could say that."

"So, you didn't think Didding was just being an ass for the hell of it?"

"Did you?"

No, he didn't. The general was a lot of things, but even Keith doubted he would be so callous as to send an expecting father on a no-return mission unless he didn't have a choice.

"So you knew about the mission before we were called into Didding's office?" How else would he have expected it to be so dangerous?

"I knew the last group to go and I'd heard about the four that had fallen. I wasn't completely sure we were going to replace them until I saw the two of you walk in with Didding." Keith had to give Hunk credit, he was a lot more astute than he seemed.

"So who's the one who survived?"

"Lt. Colonel Takashi Shirogane. I assume he's going to be our contact if we arrive at Altea."

Keith didn't miss the pessimism of that statement. "You don't think we're going to make it." Again, it was not a question.

"You're the captain, you tell me."

"I think it would be suicide to assume that the Galra's aren't guarding Altea with a fleet of ships ready to take us out. They have to know that Galaxy Garrison is going to send in replacements for the pilots that they killed. And since Voltron has been so successful at stopping their attempts at taking over the planet, they'd want to do everything in their power to prevent that. If we're going to make it to Altea in one piece than we're going to need a plan."

Hunk donned another half smile. "I'm glad to see you're not as dumb as I thought." Keith wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not, but he let it go. "So, do you have a plan?"

"Sort of."

Hunk raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "I'm working on it," Keith said.

"Well, you'd better work on it fast. We'll be entering Altean space in thirty-six hours and, if you're right, the whole Galra Empire is going to be there to welcome us."

_That_ was one thing Keith was willing to put money on.

Thirty-five hours and fifty eight minutes later Lance woke up with the worst hangover of his life. Well, at least the worse he could remember in a while. His neck hurt something awful; probably because the back of his head was lying on the other side of his arm rest. That could also explain the weird lightheadedness he felt.

He tried to raise his head back into a more comfortable, up-right position – and nearly fell out of the chair doing so. _Dammit, I'm never getting this plastered before a take-off again._

Yeah, right. That oath would last about as long as it would take for a bottle of Falusion Fire to touch his lips. All bets would be off then, mission or no mission.

Lance tried to open his eyes, but the light was so painful it felt like he was staring into the sun from ten feet away. God, his head hurt. Keith was never going to let him live this one down.

Just as that thought left his mind, the shuttle's alarm went off. The pain it caused Lance's already pounding head couldn't be put into words. Mostly because any and all ability on his part to form words had pretty much been eradicated by the pain. Lance was seeing spots it hurt so much.

"This is not good."

"You can say that again, Hammell," Hunk said from the co-pilot seat.

"Glad to know you're finally back in the land of the living, Lance," said Keith. "I was afraid that we were going to have to dump your body out in space to get rid of your dead weight. But now that you're awake you can help us maneuver this ship."

Keith was a rank bastard sometimes, but at least he got Lance's sense of humor. Nothing was better than a friend who could take your crap and dish it right back.

"Maneuver it through what, exactly?"

"Um, that."

Lance stood up from his chair and somehow managed to get his drunk ass to the cockpit window where he saw - holy. He had to take another look just to make sure his eyes were seeing what his brain thought they were seeing. Five battle-class war ships were standing between their tiny little space ship and Planet Altea. Surrounding the war ships were, if Lance had to guess, a hundred fighter ships. At least. It was enough to sober anyone up, quick.

"So, Fearless Leader," he said to Keith, "you got a plan?"

"Yup. But you're not going to like it."

"Let me guess, it goes against that whole 'not dying' thing I said earlier, right?"

"Hopefully not, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a possibility. Lance, take the chair. Hunk, you mount weapons. Pidge, see if you can calculate any weak point in their defenses. We're busting through."

A moment of stunned silence passed between the three lieutenants.

"You have _got _to be kidding me."

"'Fraid not, Lance. We don't have the arsenal to take on that number of fighters and war ships. Making a quick getaway into Altea's atmosphere is going to be our only chance of survival. Otherwise, they'll vaporize us."

Lance turned to look at Pidge and Hunk. They had to think Keith was as crazy as Lance thought he was. Or they exchanged his sane, stay-as-safe-as-possible Keith for some other, more reckless Keith.

Honestly, the latter seemed more feasible.

Pidge looked over at Hunk, sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. "It makes sense," he said, looking back at Lance. "There is no way we can take on an armada like that. It is possible that we can out maneuver them, though. But, the Galra fighter ships are known for being light and easy to move. And our ship isn't nearly as fast, but if I can reroute some of the power from weapons to thrusters then that should help. It will leave weapons at sixty percent efficiency, which is only enough to stun a fighter, but will help us be a little lighter on our feet."

"What do you think, Hunk?" Keith asked. "Can you keep the fighters from blasting us out of the sky?"

"A hundred fighters all gunning for our hides and weapons at only sixty percent? Yeah, I think I can do that."

"Great. What about you, Lance?"

Lance couldn't help but laugh. "I specifically remember saying that I refuse to die for the bastards we work for. You think I'm going to give them the satisfaction of knowing they took me out? Because I don't."

"Alright then, team. Let's do this."

Allura had been on Altea her whole life. Very rarely was she ever allowed off world, much less out of her own home. Most of her days, from as far back as she could remember, were spent within the walls of the Castle of Lions. From these windows she watched the world pass her by. But what she saw was hardly sunshine and rainbows. Over the past few years Allura had seen many of her friends leave the castle gates, smiling and waving with promises of return, to only do so inside of coffins. All too recently, four of her very best friends reached this same fate. It tore Allura's heart open to know that she would never see their smiling faces again. But what hurt worse was knowing that, all too soon, she would have to face that reality again.

Her royal advisor, Coran, had told her yesterday that Galaxy Garrison was already sending new pilots to replace the ones who had fallen in battle against Zarkon's forces. Though she had nothing against these new pilots, the idea that her friends could be so easily dismissed was sickening to her. They were not toys that could be replaced. They were people, people who she had loved and cared for, who she had confided in.

People who she missed, dearly.

But as much as it pained her to realize, Allura was grateful for one thing. It was selfish, she knew, but it was something she just couldn't help. Her dear friend, Takashi, had survived. His wounds had him bed ridden for the past two days, but he was alive. And Allura was extremely thankful.

Takashi had always been so good to her. Not to say that the others, may their souls find peace, were not, but there was something about Takashi that Allura found fascinating. Whenever he walked into a room he commanded attention. His sheer presence demanded it. He was truly something to behold.

"Pardon me, Princess. I hope I am not disturbing you."

Allura turned quickly from the window to see Takashi standing in her doorway. She tried to hide the smile that found its way to her lips whenever she saw him. It was inappropriate for a princess to show favoritism to anyone who resided beneath her, but she couldn't help herself. Takashi had a way of breaking down her defenses, leaving her open and unable to hide anything from him.

"No, no, of course not, Takashi. But should you be out of bed? You're wounds need time to heal."

"Yes, of course. You are right, Princess. But I was hoping I could have a word with you."

"Yes, but you could have just sent for me. I would have come to you."

"I did not want to trouble you, Princess. But before I waste any more of your time, I thought you should know. The new pilots have reached Altean air space."

Allura supposed she should have been happy to hear this news. After all, Voltron would not run with only one pilot at the helm. But, still, the thought that she might become close to these new pilots only to have to lose them in battle disturbed her on a level she had not known existed before today. She was tired of death. Very tired.

"Oh," she said with very little enthusiasm, "that is good. So, then they should be arriving shortly, I suppose."

"Well, that is what I came to tell you, Princess. You see, Zarkon has -"

"Enough, Takashi! Don't say another word."

To Allura's surprise Coran rounded the corner, grabbed Takashi by the arm, and attempted to remove him from Allura's room.

"Coran! What do you think you are doing?"

"I am sorry to upset you, Princess, but Takashi is not well. He should be in bed, not disturbing you. Come, Lieutenant. It is time you got some rest."

"With all due respect, Coran, she needs to know."

"It is not a matter she needs to worry about, Takashi."

"I disagree, Coran," Allura said. "As princess it is my duty to know about all things that happen regarding Altea, especially where Zarkon is concerned. Now, what is going on?"

Coran, looking quite defeated, released Takashi's arm. "Zarkon has sent five war ships to intercept the arriving pilots just within Altean air space."

"What!" The princess exclaimed. "How long have those ships been within our territory? And more importantly, how long were you going to wait before you told me? Is it possible that the pilots will be able to make it though?" Coran and Takashi exchanged a grim look that told Allura all she needed to know. "We must do something to help them."

"I am afraid, Princess," said Coran, "that there is very little we can do. Takashi is too weak to pilot one of the lions and the castle's defenses are still mostly disabled after Zarkon's last attack. If, perhaps, they were closer we could be of some assistance, but as it stands there is nothing we can do."

A sick feeling settled into the pit of Allura's stomach. Not only was she going to have to sit back and watch people die again, but knowing that they would die just because they were trying to help her planet and her people made it that much worse. Unable to stop the overwhelming feelings, she fainted.

"Just think, Keith. It could be worse."

That was really hard to see, considering they were being blasted at on all sides - literally _all _sides - by a hundred ships at once. And it really wasn't an appropriate time for Lance's obscure sense of humor, but what the hell? Why not?

"Oh, really? How could it possibly be worse?"

"Besides being dead, that is," said Hunk. "Because that would definitely be worse."

"Well, yeah," Lance said between gritted teeth as they just narrowly missed the laser beam of one fighter while simultaneously dodging another. "That's a given. But, you know, I've heard that the princess on Altea is a real babe. After we make it through this mess, I'd be willing to bet she'd reward us pretty well, if you get where I'm going with this."

"Right now, Lance," Keith said as he and Lance weaved the ship in and out of fighters, narrowly missing several lasers, "the only thing I 'get' is that we are in deep shit and that you and I are going to have to focus. Otherwise all our asses will be space dust."

"Always so serious." Piloting a fighter ship was easier by leaps and bounds compared to piloting a carrier-class vessel like the one Keith and Lance were trying to operate. First of all, it required two pilots to simultaneously input the controls. Second, as Pidge had pointed out, it was heavier and required more thrust to move. It also didn't maneuver as sharply as a fighter. All of which left their team at a severe disadvantage.

If it wasn't for the fact that Keith and Lance knew each other's piloting styles by heart and could work together in sequence like trained dancers they all would have been dead within the first couple of seconds. Not to mention the fact that Hunk was able to use what little weapons he had to keep most of the Galra ships off their hides.

For the most part they seemed to be holding their own, which was nothing short of a miracle.

"Pidge," Keith said, "have you been able to calculate a way for us to get past them yet? Because Lance, Hunk, and I aren't having much luck on our own."

"Uh, well, I - um. I-I'm still working on it." Pidge tried his best to hide it, but it was obvious to Keith that the kid was scared. And this was exactly what Keith had been afraid of. As intelligent and resourceful as Pidge was, he was still just a kid. And he wasn't use to this kind of action. Pidge was beginning to crack under the pressure.

"Listen to me, Pidge," Keith said, slowly. "Take a deep breath and control your breathing. Focus on the computer. Pretend you're at home, in your room. No one else is around. It's just you and the system." It was hard to tell if Pidge was really following his advice or not. Keith's focus was on not dying and the ship's alarm system prevented him from hearing anything other than the echo of it in his head. But he continued on like the kid was paying attention. "Now focus. Remember what you learned in the academy; every formation has a weak point. Find it."

"Alright, I've got it! Two clicks; 45 degrees; North-east. Two of the war ships have moved just enough to provide an opening."

"I see it. Hunk, watch our backs. Lance - "

"Say no more, Captain. Commencing 'Number 318 of Keith and Lance's 500 Signature Moves: The Up-Dog.'"

"'The Up-Dog?' Like the yoga pose?"

"That's right, kid. You're little sister isn't the only one who can come up with insane nick names."

The Up-Dog was a move that Keith and Lance had perfected during the battle of Qui-amm. It would work against fighter class ships if you were faster than they were, but was best against war ships because of their limited maneuvering capabilities. The goal was to trick the war ships into following you, preferably two of them, at an angle that would eventually force them into a triangle shape. Or as Lance had pointed out the first time they tried it, "kinda how you look during up-dog." Then, while the ships were at an awkward position to one another, you break and double back, escaping in the gap beneath them. It's a good move for when you need to lock up your opponent.

And right now it was the best move they had.

Which pretty much said it all.

"You familiar with it, Hunk?" Keith asked.

"I've done my research."

"Good. Pidge, you're our eyes. If one of those pilots so much as blinks funny I want to know about it."

"You got it, Keith."

"Ready team?"

"Do we have a choice?"

"Not really."

"Then what's with all this jabbering? Let's put some sizzle in our bacon, boys."

They put the ship into a nose dive just as four fighter ships closed in on their position. One of the ships sent a laser blast right at them, but Hunk was able to use their laser to redirect it into another ship. Keith and Lance wove in and out of fighters and laser blasts, with several close calls, until they were finally able to reach the two war ships Pidge had pointed out. They circled around each of them, taunting their captains to follow them into their trap.

And only by the grace of the Universe did it work. Any idiot should have been able to see that it was clearly a set up, but, Keith guessed, the Galra soldiers were a little slow on the up take.

Keith and Lance pulled off the move perfectly. They tricked the war ships into following them in a relative upward path. Then just as they broke formation and doubled back another alarm started going off.

"What's going on Pidge?" Keith asked.

"Reverse course, Keith. _Another _war ship just showed up right in our path. It must have been cloaked or something. Our sensors didn't even pick it up until just now."

Keith cursed under his breath. This was not good. And Pidge wasn't joking. Right in front of their flight path was another ship that just revealed itself right before their eyes. What was worse, they had no way of avoiding it. They had put too much power into the thrusters and the ship couldn't handle a quick change of course. Doing so would tear the nuts and bolts right out of it.

There was no way around it. They were going to crash.

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	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

"I'm so sorry, guys."

"For the last time, Pidge, this isn't your fault . . . It's Lance's"

"What!? Why the hell is it _my _fault? _You _were the one in the captain's chair, Keith. I don't remember you saying anything about a big-ass ship making its way right into our path." Lance had a point, Keith was the captain. It was his responsibility to make sure nothing happened to his crew. The blame fell on him and him alone.

But for the sake of making Pidge feel better, he'd blame Lance.

"I don't remember you saying anything about it either, Lance," he said. "Maybe if you hadn't been sloshed you could have been paying more attention to what was going on around you instead of nursing a hangover while we were in the middle of battle."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Blame it on the drunk guy. _Real _mature there, Keith." Lance tried to cross his arms and pout, but the shackles on his wrists made that impossible. So, instead, he opted to put both of his hands on the ground, between his crossed legs, and pout.

"It's okay, guys," said Pidge. "You don't have to keep doing this. I know what happened back there. I choked."

Keith, Lance, and Hunk exchanged looks with each other.

"Pidge," said Keith, "it's okay. Everyone makes mistakes on their fist mission." 

"Yeah, I remember Keith, here, making quite a few on our first mission. I, of course, didn't make any. But I'm an enigma. You can't hope to be as awesome as I am. It really is too much to aspire to."

Ignoring Lance, Keith went on. "The important part is that we take what we learn from our mistakes and use it the next time."

What Keith hoped would be inspiring words ended up only making Pidge look and feel worse. Keith could see tears start to well up in his eyes. He really hoped Pidge wouldn't cry. If there was any situation Keith was more useless at, it was when someone cried.

To Keith's surprise, Hunk scooted forward and put a hand on Pidge's shoulder. Pidge lifted his head and looked at Hunk expectantly.

"Listen, Little Buddy," Hunk said, seriously, "you got lucky today. We're all alive. But you can't always count on luck to be there. You have to make your own luck and you do that by using your skills. You didn't get to be the youngest cadet to ever graduate from the Academy by luck, now did you?" Pidge shook his head. "That's right. You used your skills. And you didn't get this far by feeling sorry for yourself, either, did you?" Again, Pidge shook his head.

"I didn't think so. You get no where in life if you just sit around feeling sorry for yourself. Take Lance for example,"

"Hey!" said Lance.

"He's the epitome of self confident. How else do you think he got as far as he has?"

"My dashing good looks?"

"If he couldn't charm his way out of a cardboard box, there would be no way anyone with half a brain would let him near a child's pop gun, much less a fighter jet."

"You know, Hunk, I'm starting to really not like you."

Pidge sniffled the last of his tears away. "You're right, Hunk," he said. "So, I guess the question now is: how do we get out of here?"

"No one's going to dispute him on this? Really? No one? Some friends you all are."

Pidge was right. Their focus had to be on how they were going to escape from Zarkon's forces and make it back to Altea.

It certainly had been easy enough getting in.

As soon as Keith had seen the war ship move into position for a collision course, he was sure their goose was cooked. But, as Hunk had pointed out, luck was on their side. The Galra Empire apparently had no idea what they were doing, because instead of letting them crash into the massive ship in front of them - which would have been the sensible thing to do - the ship caught them in a tracker beam, preventing their horrible, flaming death.

After they had landed safely within the battle ship's dock they were immediately subdued and placed in the holding cell they now occupied. It was a large room with only one small window as a light source and electronic laser bars across the doorway. From what Keith had observed the only way to open them was by a key pad located on the far right side. But the keypad was too far away to reach if they just put their hands through the bars.

From a dark corner of the room came a strange laugh - male if Keith wasn't mistaken. Keith turned to the sound, subtly motioning for Lance, Pidge, and Hunk to be ready to fight if they had to. There was no telling who their new friend might be. The Galra had many enemies through out the galaxy. But not all of them were on friendly terms with the Alliance.

"You honestly think you can escape from here? Do you have any idea where you are right now? You are in the belly of the beast. There's no way to escape." The man's voice sounded like gravel rolling around in a drum.

"Is that so?" asked Lance. "I'm going to go on a limb here and say that you've tried."

"I wouldn't be so stupid. I've seen others give it a _shot_. Go ahead, if you think you can. Try. But don't come crying to me from your graves."

"So, let's say that we decide to skip your advice," Keith said.

"You'd be a fool."

"Granted," he continued, "but what if we did? What would we have to expect?"

"Not even a tenth of the Galra Empire. And I take it you saw how many of them were waiting for you when you arrived, so that should give you some sort of idea of the number you'd be up against. That's only if you could get out of this cage first. But considering that lock over there is an alpha-numeric code with fifteen digits and over three hundred combinations, there's a fat chance of that. The wall between the lock and you is solid steel, no panels to break off to try to rewire the damn thing.

"But, in the off chance you might get _lucky_ and get the code right on your first couple of tries, there's still the army to deal with. Hundreds of drones stand between you and the bridge. Even if you were to get there and take control of the ship, you wouldn't be able to go anywhere. Just as soon as you tried to set a new course, the rest of the ships would shoot you out of space. They all know what their objective is, so there would be no way to fool them - no way to convince them - that somehow your ship managed to get new orders with out the rest of them knowing.

"You wouldn't expect it, considering their history, but the Galra Empire is nothing to joke about. They are a well organized team." Keith could see that. Their new friend hadn't told them anything Keith wasn't expecting, but still. Hearing how impossible their situation was at the moment from someone else really set it in stone. "But," the man continued, "if you still feel like trying to escape, be my guest. It's your funeral."

Getting shot out of space was not at the top of Keith's game plan, but there really was little choice in the matter. It was either that or . . .

"So," he asked the man, "do you know anything about the Galra home world?"

The man was quiet for several seconds then began to laugh. He laughed until Keith was certain he was being insulted. "'Do I know anything about the home world?' Oh, you boys are rich. Real rich."

"That's enough, Kalin," said another voice. This one was obviously female. It came from the other side of the room. Keith turned to see a young girl, about Pidge's age, walk into the light of the window. "You've teased them enough. Please, excuse my friend. He didn't mean to offend."

"I meant every word I said, Escar. They're idiots to even think about escaping here. You saw what happened to the others."

"Others?" asked Hunk.

"Yes," said the girl, Escar. "There was a group from the planet Cielee that tried to escape when we were first captured. They didn't make it far."

"They didn't make it at all," said Kalin. "They were annihilated. Just like these idiots will be if they try, Garrison soldiers or not."

"Enough, Kalin!" Even though Escar was only a child she held herself like an adult. And she commanded attention like a royal. "Again, please, forgive him. We are all on edge. None of us are looking forward to what is to come."

"Um, excuse me," said Pidge, "but you wouldn't happen to be Lady Escar of planet Pwyll, would you?" Keith was impressed by Pidge's observation. It hadn't occurred to him that they could have been sharing a cell with _the_ Escar of the royal house of Pwyll.

"I am," she said. "I'm surprised you noticed me. I don't make it out much."

"Actually, it was just a guess. Lady Escar is - I mean - _you _are known for having the appearance of a child, but the essence of a queen. It was from your mannerisms and the way you spoke that clued me in. It just made since."

Escar smiled at Pidge. "You are an astute one, aren't you, Pidge? Forgive me for addressing you so familiarly, but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation earlier."

"Pardon me, Lady Escar," said Hunk, "just what did you mean when you said that none of you were 'looking forward to what is to come?'"

"She means the Arena."

"What arena, Pidge?"

"Zarkon's Arena," said Kalin. "It's where he puts the strongest of his warriors against the strongest - and weakest - of his prisoners. He makes them fight for his own amusement, then sends the winner off to conquer another planet in his name or terrorize one that has failed to meet his expectations. It's a horrible place where the stench of death clings to the air like a heavy mist. For some, just knowing what is to come is enough to drive them into madness. Then, when you think you can't take it anymore, you're sent out to either kill or be killed. It is the last place anyone wishes to go to die."

"You sound like you've been there before."

"I have. It was not an experience I would ever wish to go through again." Based on the sound of his voice Keith had a feeling that Kalin would have done anything to have kept from going back to that hell hole.

"So," Lance said, "how did you escape?"

"I didn't. I won my battles against Zarkon's warriors and was forced to become one of the witch Hagar's robeasts. He sent me back to Pwyll to destroy it. If it hadn't been for Lady Escar and her magic, I would have annihilated my home and my people. Thankfully, she saved me from that." Kalin's voice became softer the more he talked about Lady Escar. It was obvious she was very special to him.

"Only to send you back into that pit, I'm afraid." There was a deep sense of regret from Escar. "If it wasn't for my foolishness, we wouldn't be in this mess right now and you wouldn't have to fight in that horrid arena again." Escar clenched her fists in anger. Anger that, Keith suspected, was directed at herself.

From the dark corner where he had been hiding Keith could hear Kalin move. He stepped into the light and for the first time Keith could see the damage Zarkon's arena had done to him. From the wear on his voice, Keith had imagined Kalin to be an old man, but as he saw him now it seemed more likely that Kalin was no older than himself. But that was extremely hard to discern.

The man's face was completely covered in scars. One, in particular, ran from the bottom of his ear clear across his neck to his collar bone on the other side. The scar was so wide that it was a wonder he had survived the blow that had dealt it. Other scars ran across his face, one cutting across his right eye. With a closer look, Keith could see that Kalin was blind in that eye. All together, Kalin looked like a man Keith would not like to meet up with in a dark alley.

His brown hair fell long into his face. You could tell he was trying to grow it out to cover his eye, but it wasn't quite long enough yet. The man was built like Hunk, solid and muscular. Keith had a feeling that if the two of them were to ever get into a fight, it would be a real close call. Keith had every confidence that Hunk could handle his own, but against a man like Kalin it would definitely be close.

Kalin walked across the cell to stand in front of Escar. She refused to look up at him. From where he sat, Keith could see that Escar was trying to hold back tears.

"This is not your fault," he said to her gently. "I have told you that, already."

"But if I hadn't - " Kalin cut her off.

"Enough. The past doesn't matter now. All that matters is surviving. We will make it through this. That I promise you." Keith wondered if Kalin really believed what he was saying. And if he did, then did the man have what it took to back up his claim.

The doubt in Escar's eyes was clear. Keith couldn't blame her. From what Kalin described earlier, it was looking more and more impossible that any of them were going to manage to survive this.

"Sorry to break up this tender little moment," Lance said, "but weren't you the one who, not so long ago, was preaching about how it was impossible to escape from here?"

Kalin sighed, a heavy sigh that tended to follow Lance wherever he went. The sigh of someone trying to gather their patience.

"Yes, I did. You can't escape. The only way to get out is to survive the Arena and hope that Zarkon takes mercy on you and doesn't turn you into a robeast. Then you might have a chance of running under his radar."

"And what are the odds of that happening?"

"Supposing you can survive the Arena? I'd say about ten million to one against you."

Lance sat and pretended to ponder that for a minute. "Well, then," he said, "this is your lucky day. As it just so happens, we make it our specialty to beat those kinds of odds on a fairly regular basis. In fact, I would be willing to take those odds in a bet that says our dear captain here has already figured out a plan to get us out safe and sound. Am I correct, dear ol' Captain Keith?"

Keith couldn't help but laugh. Lance really did know him too well.

"Just a minute, Keith," said Hunk. "How do we know we're not being spied on? It's been quiet ever since we were dropped here. I don't like it."

Hunk was right. They didn't know if there were cameras on them or if they were being listened in on, much less if any of the other prisoners were spies. If they revealed too much then it could mean their lives.

"Don't worry about that," Escar said. "I've taken care of it. I've had a shielding spell on us ever since you boys started talking about escape plans. The other prisoners can hear us, but I assure you, none of them are spies. They are all my people."

"And are you sure your spell can keep the guards from hearing us? What if they come into the room?"

"Yes, and if they come anywhere within ear shot they will only hear mindless ramblings. I can assure you, your plans are safe."

"Alright then," said Keith. "Pidge, what do you know about Zarkon's strong hold?"

"You can't be serious?" Kalin said. "I told you, there's no way to escape. Your best chance is to win in the arena."

"Not an option," Keith said. He wasn't about to take the gamble that he and his men would have to fight to the death. Then there was the off chance that if they did win, they would end up killing someone who could help them escape. If they were going to pull of any kind of attempt at freedom they were going to need all the friends they could get.

Friends and a great deal of stupid luck.

"Are you certain, Coran? Is it possible that the pilots somehow managed to escape Zarkon's battle ships?" Allura had woken up from her faint in a cold sweat. Dread filled her as she stood in front of the castle's central monitor while Coran sat at the control panel. Her father's oldest and dearest friend seemed to age right before her eyes.

"I am afraid that it is certain, you're Highness. Our satellite's managed to capture an image of their ship being taken." Coran pressed a button and the image appeared on the screen. Allura wanted to cry her heart hurt so badly.

_Not again._

She had already seen so many people die at the hands of Zarkon. She was tired of it. She didn't want to see any more people - her people or others - suffer at his hands anymore.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Allura hated feeling so useless. There had to be something they could do to help.

"We should contact Galaxy Garrison," Takashi said. "That way they can contact their families."

Allura hated to admit defeat, but if even Takashi saw no way to help the pilots that had risked their lives to come and help them, then there really was no hope.

"I'll contact General Didding, then," said Coran. He pushed several buttons on the control panel until a channel was open. Before them, on the large screen, was General Urhine Didding. From what little knowledge Allura had, Didding, her father, and Coran had all been friends at one point in time; back before she was born. But Coran never said much else about the man. Just that they had been comrades once.

"Coran, my old friend. It is good to see you. It has been too long."

"We spoke only a few days ago, Urhine. A fact which you are well aware of." Allura had never heard Coran speak to anyone in the manner in which he spoke to General Didding. He seemed irritated at having to communicate with the man. But she thought they were friends. So why was Coran acting in such a way?

"Has it really only been that long? How silly of me to forget. I suppose I miss your presence so much that any time away from you seems like an eternity." Allura couldn't tell if General Didding was being sarcastic with Coran or serious. It was obvious to her, though, that no matter what, the General was getting a great deal of pleasure out of Coran's reaction. Almost in the way a child loves to irritate their parents. "So, have you gotten that little gift I sent you yet? It should have already arrived."

"That is actually why I am calling, Urhine. They were captured by Zarkon. We would like for you to tell their families the news and pass along our deepest condolences."

If Allura wasn't mistaken it seemed as if the General was offended by Coran's request.

"You always have underestimated me, Coran. Have you no faith in your old friend?"

"Stop speaking in riddles, Urhine. What are you talking about?"

"Do you honestly think I would send you just anyone? I'm tired of loosing soldiers to Zarkon just like you. I hand picked these boys myself." Allura could have sworn she saw Coran jump just then. As if he had been startled. Didding noticed it, too. "That's right, you heard me. Don't worry, old friend. I have every confidence that you will see your space explorers very soon. Didding out."

"Urhine, wait!" But it was too late. The screen had closed. Their communication had been terminated.

Allura was startled when Coran slammed his fist against the control panel. "Damn it. Damn it, Urhine. What game are you playing at? These are people, not pawns."

Allura didn't know why Coran was upset. She doubted he would tell her even if she asked. But she did know one thing; she hoped that the General had been right. She hoped she would be able to see these new pilots arrive safely. Although the chances of that grew increasingly slim by the moment.

"So what do you think, Kalin," asked Pidge. "Does that seem about right?"

"I have to admit, kid, even though I think you're all a bunch of idiots for trying this half-baked plan, you seem to know what you're doing. It looks pretty accurate to me."

Over the past several hours Pidge, along with Kalin's help and some input from other prisoners who had overheard their conversation, managed to draw up a fairly accurate floor plan of Zarkon's palace, arena, and docking bay using his shackles as a drawing tool. Somehow, their little hacker had found an old blueprint copy of the place before they had left Earth, memorized it, and updated it according to Kalin's memories of what he had seen along with other recaptured prisoners.

"You'd be surprised what you can find on the web if you know where to look."

Keith had no doubt about that. Especially when it came to Pidge. This was the kid who hacked into his own file and modified it without anyone noticing. Overall, he was pretty impressive.

"Okay," Keith said, "so when we arrive at Planet Galra we can expect to be taken here, the holding cells, right?" He pointed to the building on the map that was directly connected to the military compound.

"Right," said Kalin. "They'll keep you there for a little while, but I expect that you won't stay there long. Once Zarkon hears you've arrived, he will probably have you sent immediately to the arena through the underground tunnel, here." Kalin pointed to the area between the holding cells and the arena. "Then, assuming you live, after the fight you'll be brought back through the tunnel."

"So," Lance said, "it looks like, since the prison is right next to the military base, our best chance of escaping is going to be at the arena. Unless you feel like taking on Zarkon's whole army, of course."

It wasn't Plan A, but it was definitely a possibility. Making it out of the arena alive was looking more and more unlikely. The fighting for Zarkon's pleasure aside, according to Kalin the arena will be full of Zarkon's followers. Most of which were seasoned warriors. Getting past the whole lot of them was a challenge in and of itself. But even if they did decide to escape from the holding cells, either way, they would still have to pass by the military compound in order to get to the ship docks.

This was not looking good.

From the cell across the hall came an old man's voice. "If an escape is what you're looking for, I think I might know of something that can help you."

"We're listening, Old Man," said Lance.

"Within the underground tunnel leading to the arena lays a hidden passage that leads to the ship docks. But it's not unknown to Zarkon. There are guards posted at the entrance and exit. But if you can make it past them then you have a straight shot to your escape."

"No offense," Hunk said, "but your story sounds a little too good to be true. Anyone ever actually used this tunnel before?"

"I have," said another prisoner. "I saw the tunnel opening when they dragged me into the arena. I managed to make it to the end and steal a fighter from the dock, but it wasn't long after that I was captured again. As you can see."

So, if their source was correct, then the tunnel was operational. But, most likely, they would have either posted more guards or tried to fill it in. It was a long shot, but it was the only one they had.

"Alright," said Hunk, "that still leaves the guards. There will be hundreds of them posted all across the place. We can't take them all down."

"You may not have to," said Kalin. "During a really good fight between two strong opponents, the guards become preoccupied. They're so busy watching the fight that they tend to not pay attention."

"But what about after we get a ship?" Hunk asked. "How are we supposed to make it back to Altea in one piece?"

"That's going to be the hard part."

"Oh, yes, of course," said Lance. "Because everything up to that point will be a piece of cake."

"Compared to getting off the planet," Kalin said, "it will be. Every battle ship has a beacon that emits a tracking signal. As long as that beacon is active, they can find you anywhere in the galaxy. But that's not your biggest problem. On top of Zarkon's palace is an energy cannon that could easily take out one or more battle ships."

"Is it operated manually?" Pidge asked.

"I think it's remotely, but I'm not sure."

"If that's the case, then I can disable it from the ships computer system. It wouldn't be too hard to hack into."

"Well," said Lance, "it seems that we've got all of our ends tied together nicely. But there's just one big elephant in the room that no one has seemed to address yet. Is this escape an open invitation or is it exclusive?"

Meaning were Keith and his crew the only ones going through with it or were they going to stake their lives in order to get as many prisoners off of Planet Galra as possible?

"It's your call, boss."

It would be easier if it was just the four of them. They would have an easier time getting past the guards. But Keith new the truth.

He could never leave anyone behind.

"It's open."

There was a huge uproar from the other cells. Cheers of joy and hope resonated off the walls.

"But we're going to need everyone's help. Since we don't know for certain that the four of us will even be in the holding cells we will need everyone to spread the word to the other prisoners. Let them know exactly what's going on and when to be ready."

With a bit of dumb luck, they might be able to pull this off.

_Thanks for reading so far. Please feel free to review and let me know what you think. _


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